Silence Beckons Wakenings
by A Sweet Dream
Summary: Shuichi is in a coma and he recaps over his life as of the past few years while those who knew him in the physical world visit his hospitalized body. My summary sucks and multiple pairings by the way.


_So guys, here is chapter one of an old fanfiction I never published. I re-typed it and it's still pretty rough even after a few view overs, and I apologize sincerely. I obviously do not owns Gravitations, the characters and music and so on from it, or anything to do with it. That belongs to it's rightful owners and not me. So yeah~ Here is the start of my lame fanfiction, enjoy. : _

_~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~_

'_I remember the oddest things in this long sleep. Sometimes it's a memory of the distant past, and others are from right before I met this darkness. The memory of golden hair like the petals of a sunflower, and eyes that matched, golden, and they were cold and heartless. Or at least, with a first glance, that is what they were. His name, I can't seem to remember it though. In fact, I can't remember anyone's names anymore, not even my own. I watch these memories in my head, trapped with in my mind, from a 3__rd__ person view. I wonder, even after all the mean things he said and did, with those few soft and sweet moments, did he really care for me. And, why did I seem to be so in love with someone so cruel, is it true that I thought I could see the good in everyone? And I wonder, why did I choose someone as harsh as him? I wonder, if, in the real world, if I'm still alive or there, in that strange realm I feel like I've been away form for so long, if he misses me or is worried about me? Hmm, I do wonder.'_

Shuichi opened his eyes to the familiar scenery of his home with his golden trait lover. Yet another memory, he could hear the rain from outside and rose from the couch and himself. It always started in such a way, in which he was himself in the memory and had to separate from him. Eyes glancing around him, he yawned and lightly stepped on the wooden floors of their home before heading outside. He did remember this day very clearly, the first day he considered retiring from Bad Luck. Simply because he was tired all of the fighting, the uninspiration, the depression, and the time it took from his days with his lover. Yet, also he considered breaking up with the bright haired man, no longer feeling the will to keep this messy relationship going.

He felt so tired of trying to make things work and trying to make the other love him. The violence and cruel words he was bombarded with daily. He honestly couldn't think of a reason to stay doing either of the things that day, and he walked outside, as did his mental form, and walked for a good while as he let the rain soak his body. No umbrella, no coat, just a simple T-shirt and some jeans and flip-flops on his feet, simple clothing. The thunder so loud and the lightening so bright. Winds crashing against his body with the needle like rain drops, it was oddly comforting to him, reminding him he was still alive and still had feeling. He sighed out loud before he came upon the park and had seated himself on the bench. He didn't even bother bring his phone or telling anyone he had left the apartment. His mental form watched himself sit there and talk a loud, tears mixed in with the rain, he shook his head and laugh in his sorrows at himself.

Kept asking himself if it was still worth it, and if he should keep going, and why hadn't he just given up. That sarcastic and lying smile turned into a frown and soon his wet face fell into his hands as he sobbed to himself in the rain, the storm as mixed up and violent as his own confused emotions. He didn't feel sorry for himself now, for he had put himself into that relationship. In that personal hell he always told himself would get better over time, but did it really, no, not really. As far as he knew it only got worse. And still he sat there and whined and sobbed to himself and told himself the same lie over and over again, like a mantra that would save him from the confusion and confliction. From the self-hate and despair that plagued his usually happy soul.

The crying continued for ages it seemed like. He just sobbed and soaked in the rain, by himself, alone. No one daring to be out in this dreadful weather except him. His separate self looked away from his sorry form in the memory, the figure with blazing red hair approaching him, finally his memory self looked up when a hand touched his shoulder. Never before had he been so grateful to see that man, the other friend whom's name he couldn't remember, and the voice he could hear tell him he was going to be okay and that he'd be alright. Though he heard himself cry and repeat over and over "I don't want to do this anymore. I can't" He frowned and glared at himself with the simple thought of _'crybaby'_ before he watched himself be guided by the red-haired male to a motorcycle and he slowly followed himself in the memory and became one with the sorry excuse for a human being. Getting on the back and putting the helmet on to ride off with the other whom brought him to a safe haven. And in that safe haven he was made to strip and change into dry clothing, though, he kept blubbering excuses as why to not stay or be comforted. Things like "I don't want to be a burden" or "I don't want to bother you." And yet, that red-headed man sighed and shook his head and put a towel upon his own pink hair, ruffling it and scrubbing at it.

That was a nice feeling, because he remembered how bad he had a headache that day and how good it felt. And once changed he was laid into the others bed and he took the red-head down with him, forcing him to stay close and let him snuggle into his warmth. Thanking him and just lowly whispering a conversation about how confused he was about everything lately. He recalled the sweet nothings his best friend had told him, the way the other held him close without any want or need from him, just the desire to be there and be depended on and protect him. It was nice, and yet, Shuichi also remembered how somewhere deep down inside, he wondered if he would have been better off falling in love with this one, and not the cold man he seemed so fatally attracted to. What was he to do with this problem of his?

It was then the memory of this day started to fade out and he frowned a bit to himself as he was greeted by the common dark that surrounded him. No more comfort of the other's arms around him, no more warmth, just coldness, and a horrifying silence. He closed his eyes, and he could hear them. The breaths of people no doubt visiting his physical and present body. How many days or months had gone by, with him like this, he wondered. And how many people gave up on him at this point. Someone grasped his hand, he could tell, as for just a moment, it was warm and the sensation of the feeling of someone else's hand was around his. Their other hand must have been stroking his hair, as the spider tingles from the affectionate notion still lay present to his mentally trapped form. A voice, to which male he could no longer identify, mentioned a name, and it sounded so familiar, and he betted anything it was his own, but, it was so faint. The begging voice for him to wake up, and he wished so much that he could. That he could wake up and fix everything he had come to realize in this dreadful nightmare, that he had done wrong. But, for now, he couldn't. One time though, he remembered his will being so strong, if only for a moment, he had responded under his breath, the name _Yuki_ and _Hiro_ to the voices around him, and he could hear them sound startled and try to coax him further awake and more words from his probably deteriorating body, but he couldn't and that was, in his mind, weeks ago. He needed to wake up, but, he just couldn't make himself open his eyes up. But as he lay in the darkness, feeling the affections of his physical form, he talked himself up to wake up and make things right, to fix everything, and to make everyone smile and stop worrying about him so often. _' Shuichi, please… wakeup.'_ His name, he finally remembered his own name, and he repeated it to himself as if to keep it to himself and never forget it again.

_~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~_

In the current and real world, Hiroshi was close by his best friend's side. His band members often came to visit the male who now laid in a coma, but none so often as Hiro. Hiro, whom was hell bent on his best friend waking up, if it killed him. His hand holding onto the other's and the other running gently through the growing out pink hair. It was starting to get long now. The other seemed so peaceful in his sleep, even after most of his wounds healed though, he was lost in this sleep that people were beginning to believe he'd not wake up from. The only other person who came as often as Hiro was ironically enough, Yuki. The cold man wouldn't say much, and he'd not let nay emotions through around the sleeping form of Shuichi or those who visited him, and only every once in awhile would he tell the other he needed to wake up and to stop playing around.

Honestly, neither of them was sure what happened to Shuichi, except for the fact, after yet another fight, he had run off, and the next thing they know, they are informed he is in the hospital. He had suffered from head trauma and a bullet wound into one of his sides, and the best the hospital and cops could come up with was that he was the unfortunate victim of a Gang initiation. Which most victims didn't live from, but he got lucky, if being left in a coma is what people consider lucky. Hiroshi had since been in constant feuds with Yuki whenever they happened to run into each other, over Shuichi and the fact he could show a bit more care for someone who had always gone out of his way to be nice to the man. Yuki would just retort with some cruel comment about how that was Shuichi's choice and not his fault or problem the other had been so smitten with him.

What Hiro didn't know was how badly this was really affecting Yuki, nor Yuki how badly it was affecting himself. Today was one of the few days in which he didn't stop by to see his pink haired lover's withering form. No, he had stayed home in hopes of finishing his book that was very much over due, and he just couldn't seem to find the right phrases to use, the right notions to use in his book, and so he left his study, cigarette in mouth and frustrated look on his face, he ran a hand through his golden hair. Without the constant annoyance and presence of Shuichi around, time went by, so very slowly. Painfully slow, and much too quietly. He admitted that without the other around, the world had lost some of its luster, and he had lost some of his inspiration. The older male walking around their empty home, he glared at its bland form. Moving to the kitchen to fix himself some instant noodles to eat, he was starting to feel the itching need to go out for a walk, or really, just go do anything, that required interaction with others and or someone, for this house was to quiet and lonesome these days for him to want to be stuck in it.

It was as he left the kitchen and entered the living room, that he gasped to himself lightly. There his eyes played out before him, in a faint taunting manner, the memories of the many times he found Shuichi on that couch. After a fight, when he first moved in, when he himself cried for the first time in years, or the occasional times when they shared somewhat romantic moments together just being near one another. His hands became a bit shaky and his face pale, he could feel his eyes watering, yet, he didn't let the tears fall, nor did he let his face stay in that state of shocked and reminiscent glancing at where he once spent so much time with he pink haired singer. No instead he found himself putting his food down for just a moment, putting out his cigarette, slipping a coat over his shoulders, and picking the food back up before he walked out the door, wanting nothing more than to get away form the memory or thought of the other. This would not be the first time he had lost a lover and he would not allow himself to be upset over someone who seemed to do nothing but annoy him to the fullest. But then, why did so many things now or days remind him of the other, and why, did he feel like he was missing something now that the other was no longer a constant in his life?


End file.
